


Bloom Later

by cherryblur



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Flowers, Gore, M/M, Mutilation, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:03:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblur/pseuds/cherryblur
Summary: “We’ve barely even started and you’re already singing,” Josh laughs softly.Tyler just grins and watches the morphine drip into his system.





	Bloom Later

**Author's Note:**

> i got people who wanted more of my plant/flower tyler au so here u gooo

“It kinda tickles,” He murmurs. 

Josh nods above him, grips the suture line in his teeth and furrows his eyebrows in concentration. 

“What kind?”

“Daises. Yellow this time,” Josh pushes packed earth into the weeping gash in Tyler’s shoulder and hears him gasp when he sews up the loose ends. 

He’s had to clean a few places quite a bit, a scalpel in one hand and a metal spoon in the other when he’s gouging out useless tissue and muscle to make room for the florets Tyler so tentatively adored. 

He’s pumped so full of morphine right now he probably feels as if he’s floating when Josh shoves his fingers between the bones in his shoulder, checking to make sure there was just enough room for the beauties he planned today. 

He’s planting babies, not seeds but not fully grown this time. He nestles them into the dirt already soaked with Tyler’s blood and hears him hum a song beneath him. 

“Whatcha singing?” He rumbles, fingers prodding at the lump created underneath Tyler’s fair skin. It bulges and reddens with irritation, but that always happens with new plants. 

“Daisy Bell,” Tyler babbles, eyes flicking every which way curiously. The words leave his lips and it feels like they don’t even move. 

Josh is glad he implanted those teeny tiny rows of baby’s breath into Tyler’s lips. He looked surreal and beautiful. 

Petals fall from his hair when Josh cuts the suture and runs a hand lovingly over the new breed adorning Tyler’s body. 

“It’s lovely,” He tells him when he sits up and examines the blooms sprouting from atop his shoulder.  
“Do they match?” 

He gestures to the rest of his body, where baby’s breath and hydrangeas and calla lillys rest side by side next to gushing greenery that flows off his arms and legs like tassels and compliments his flowers. 

“Perfectly,” Josh kisses his forehead.

Tyler blinks fast and smiles sheepishly. Any type of flattery always made him quite flustered. (Only from Josh.) 

He sits daintily on the operating table sat square in the middle of his greenhouse. 

It’s a gorgeous thing, tall and warm and filled with all of his favorite blooms and plants.  
He wishes he could live there, but it’s only for surgery. Josh insists he live in the house. 

“Are you sore?” He asks while cleaning up the bloody, tissue covered scalpels scattered on the table. 

Tyler shakes his head. “Not anymore. Hurt a bit when you scraped out all the muscle, though.” He drags his fingers over the off-white young roses growing in his cheekbones and along his neck. 

The morphine never works, but he doesn’t tell Josh directly just because he loves having an IV drip into his arm. It’s mesmerizing. 

Josh carries him back to the house like a child. 

He’s fragile, apparently, (it’s what he’s been told his whole life) because he’s always breaking and getting ripped open, tripping and falling over his own two feet. 

He feels like a newborn doe sometimes. 

He tiptoes in this house, always scared he might crush a petunia if he steps too rough. Josh carries him a lot. 

When he’s seated on the couch, waiting with big eyes and flourishing blooms, he feels his chest flutter because post-surgery always means the best treatments after. 

He’s full of petals, body flushed and ready when Josh lays him down, inspects his plants and places kisses in just about every free spot. 

He’s almost bitten his baby’s breath from his lips too many times to count, but he can’t help but blame it on Josh’s tongue and firm hands. 

His back arches off the couch, vines slipping free and tangling themselves below him. Josh has such a tight grip on his thighs he feels he might just cut the circulation. 

“Josh, Josh, Josh-!” Is the mantra on his lips, eager and desperate and full of willing. His eyelashes flutter and Josh sees those peachy rose eyes roll up into his head. 

He swallows the flowers begging to crawl up his throat and instead pulls on Josh’s pink carnation hair with painted fingernails colored the same shade. 

He feels steady fingers join a mouth and the gentle traces of leaflets stuck in his hair cascade to the ground when he tips his head back and whimpers. 

He’s hiccuping, whining and squirming because Josh has never gone this long before, never done it this intense. It’s always slow and sweet and relaxing but not this time. 

This time Tyler gets used and bruised.  
This time Josh covers every free inch of his body with harsh hickies that sting and litter his pure skin. 

He’s splayed out, so open and honest and truly a bit embarrassed, because he’s so humble and conscious of his body. 

He jostles and hopes Josh doesn’t snap one of his flowers’ stems.

It slows, however. He’s seated on Josh’s lap soon enough, able to move at his own pace, chest still heaving and red.  
He scrabbles at Josh’s shoulders, face tucked into his neck because he’s just too bashful to own up to any of this. 

He squeaks when Josh is in control again, guiding his hips with those gentle, strong hands that could rip him open and put him back together so carefully. It’s cathartic, really. 

To have such a beautiful specimen to experiment and love. 

His fingers brush over dainty orchids stretching out over Tyler’s tailbone.  
“My flower,” He jerks forward and his pretty flower squeals. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Josh, I-“ The brunette digs his fingernails into Josh’s flesh, legs bowing on their own accord and he’s gasping, doubling over and twitching through his haze when Josh keeps going. 

He keeps going and makes his flower cry, breath hitching and body begging for rest. His toes curl, the blooms tucked in his skin standing gorgeously out against his blushing red skin. 

Tyler squeezes his eyes shut when Josh finally fills him, his sticky petal-filled heart beating unceremoniously. His lungs are too full, he gasps for breath and only receives thick bundle-filled breaths. He’s got bouquets in his system, working and clogging his organs whenever they can. 

He swallows again and Josh kisses him, crushing his baby’s breath but neither of them care at the moment. 

The next time he feeds his plants they’ll surely sprout back. 

He’s laid back again, slowly working through aftershocks when Josh marvels at his prize. 

“Stop staring,” Tyler covers his face and shows off the carnations bulging from the backs of his hands. 

Josh laughs through his nose, smiles and fills the room with warmth.  
“I can’t help it, you’re a work of art, baby,” He coos, and Tyler feels his face heat up even more. 

“I don’t deserve all this praise,” He pouts. He blinks up at Josh and frowns. 

Josh shakes his head, leans down and kisses him so slow, picks him up and lets him rest on him, skin-against-skin and warm. 

He’s leaking, wet and some of his flowers have burst and now weep dark blood down his back but he couldn’t care less. 

“You deserve the world, my flower,” Josh tells him in a murmur. 

Tyler nods blindly and falls asleep cradled in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> say sum stuff im a comment whore


End file.
